Don't Say You're sorry
by Coco x
Summary: Rory and Jess fic, post Real Paul Anka. Final chapter up. R&R please
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls belongs to the CW.**

**Note: Post "The Real Paul Anka" (season six). **

-1-

"Thanks Jess," she said. And once again, she was gone. Only this time, it was he who was forced to watch her back turn, and walk away from him. It's funny how things turn out.

She stepped onto the sidewalk and pulled her jacket closer to her as an usually cold wind cut through her like a knife. She felt sick inside. Everything was all wrong, and she had no idea how to fix it. For the life her, she couldn't figure out why she had come to Philadelphia like this. No, actually, she knew exactly what she was doing. She came, invited, with the excuse of their rekindled friendship, knowing somewhere inside her that she just might have the opportunity of achieving a little payback. She hadn't meant to take advantage of him so blatantly.

She just wanted her catharsis.

_So much for that,_ she thought. Of course she couldn't do it. It was like she had just, finally, admitted out loud to him: She was in love. She was hopelessly in love with Logan. Behind her anger, she was aware he loved her right back. She just wanted to really, wholly, undeniably believe it again. Her cell phone rang as she got into her car and she absent mindedly answered, not even bothering to check the caller ID.

"Hello," she said, distracted.

"Umm, hi. Is this Rory?" A ditzy female voice inquired.

"Yes, it is. Who is this?" She replied, puzzled by the conversation.

Ignoring the question she went on, "Look, Logan left his phone at my place last night and I have no idea how to get in touch with him. Could you tell him to call Jenna?"

"What, what was Logan doing at your place last night?" Rory asked, a combination of pure anger and suicidal depression rising within her.

"We met up at bar, we knew each other a long time ago, you know. Anyway, I meant to get his number, but we weren't really talking much, if you know what I mean." Rory pictured her, tall and blonde, long, batting eyelashes framing innocently seductive eyes. She hated her.

"Yeah, I do know what you mean, because, see, I'm his girlfriend," Rory spat out the words before they could choke her and she snapped the phone shut. Her vision blurred, though not with the tears she was expecting but the bone-shattering hatred that was coursing violently through her veins.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she started the car and drove blindly down the street. Spotting a comforting sight, she quickly pulled into an empty space and dug into her purse for her wallet. _One drink,_ she thought. _Just to calm down._ Abandoning her car, she made her way into the bar in search of condolence.

Four drinks later, Rory's depression was only fed rather than relieved. She stared at the bottom of her empty glass feeling the bar stool sway beneath her and the walls of the room melt away.

Outside, Jess walked carefully to the bar his coworkers had ventured to earlier in the evening. After Rory had left the bookstore, he had sat quietly by the bookshelves, studying their bindings a little too closely. He should have been angry. He should have been furious at her for messing with him like that. He tried to conjure even the smallest sentiment of resent, but the task was lost. He was disappointed, depressed, and maybe even a little angry at himself for letting his head believe that everything would finally be perfect. _It is what it is: You, me,_ his earlier spoken words ran through his head again. It wasn't the first time he had been let down, God, and everyone, else knew that. And every time he just fixed his sight on something else and kept on going, being sure to remind himself to breathe.

He locked the bookstore and started walking in search of his comrades, who quite possibly would need his help to find their way home by now. Approaching their favorite haunt he couldn't help but notice a silver Prius parked nearby. He stopped and stared at it for a moment. _She left almost an hour and a half ago. She couldn't still be here alone,_ he thought. Rubbing his chin, he forced himself to stop wondering and walked into the bar. However his attempt to flee from thoughts of her was foiled when he immediately spotted her sitting alone at the bar, staring blankly into the smoke-filled space. He heard his rambunctious friends laughing in the corner and looked over in time to see Matthew holding a shot glass in each one of his eye sockets like a pair of goggles. Chris motioned for him to join them, and Jess waved him off. He looked back at Rory, contemplating whether or not he should speak to her. He had just seen her, so he had nothing new to report. Then again, she looked a little out of it, maybe something had happened after she left. Giving in, his put his hands in his coat pockets and made his way over to her.

Lightly touching her back with his hand he said, "Hey, there." Rory snapped out of her apparent daydream and looked at him. Upon recognition her face broke into an uncharacteristically large smile.

"Jess! Hey, what are you doing here?" She asked, a little loudly.

"Well, see, I live here. What are you still doing here, you left hours ago." He said

"Did I?" She cocked her head and squinted her eyes, time completely incomprehensible in her current state. "If you say so, I'll believe you. You never lie to me Jess, do you?" He took the seat next to her, and leaned an elbow on the bar as he looked at her.

"I have before. But that was a ling time ago. I'm done lying now," he said.

"Ah, well that's very noble of you. Logan is not as noble as you are," she said, more quietly, her eyes misting over. Jess studied her quizzically in the poor lighting, debating whether or not he really wanted to engage this conversation. Before he could decide though, she continued, "Logan cheated on me, Jess."

"I know, you told me," he said quietly, a knot forming in his stomach.

"No, I mean he _really_ cheated on me. With a whole bridal party while we were on a break. And now," she laughed bitterly. "After I left your place I get a call from some bitch asking me to tell Logan that he left his cell at her place last night. And of course, she has no idea how else to get in touch with him, because they really didn't talk all that much. Gee, I wonder why? Were they watching a movie that was so incredibly riveting that they completely forgot someone else was in the room? Or were they too busy dissecting The Divinci Code to exchange basic personal information? No, I know. They must have contracted tonsillitis due to the bird flu, and were simply unable to speak because of the sheer bodily pain it caused, and their makeshift attempt at sign language was obviously riddled with misunderstandings." Her babbling finally ceased and she brought the empty glass to her lips again, trying to salvage one last drop of liquor. "Another, please?" She called to the bartender as he passed by.

Jess shook his head at the bartender mouthing _no. _"No, Rory, you've had enough," he said, gently taking the glass from her hands. He felt sick inside. He wanted to kill this Logan, or at least leave him an incurable scar. Anything to remedy the sight of this girl falling apart in front of him.

"Just one more, then I'll head back, I promise," she said.

"Rory, no. And you can't drive home like this." She sighed and brushed her bangs off of her forehead. She dug in her purse to find her wallet. "I got it," Jess said, pulling his billfold from his pocket.

"Oh, no, Jess. I can't let you do that." She stood up, and wobbled a little, grasping the bar to keep her balance. "Woop. Little tipsy." Jess placed enough to cover her tab on the bar and grasped her arm to steady her.

"Let's go," he commanded.

Jess drove Rory's car back to the bookstore and helped her upstairs into his cramped apartment. While he made a pot of coffee, a strange calm came over her and she barely spoke a word, quite a contrast to her constant chatter in the car as she commented on every turn he made and every dark ally they passed.

"Do you suppose anyone lives in that ally? They probably do. That's so sad. When I see homeless people I just feel _so_ sad and helpless. I just think that could be me or you or my mom or Mrs. Kim. Oh, Mrs. Kim, I really can't picture her being homeless. Isn't that strange? I mean she would probably just stare some landlord down until he gave her an apartment completely free of charge. She just has that kind of power over people to make them do whatever she wants. Logan has that power too. Sometimes I wish he would lose some of it…" She had gone on for quite a bit on one subject or another, and nearly every time her rambling found its way back to her tumultuous relationship and every time it did, Jess wanted to scream, to punch a wall, to fix her.

Jess handed a steaming cup of coffee to Rory, who was sitting on his couch. She accepted the mug and stared thoughtfully into it for a moment, letting the steam penetrate her skin. Almost like a cleansing. Cleansing away Logan and all he stood for.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Rory asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had filled the air in the apartment since they entered the room. "You should hate me," she said quietly. He stared at the monochrome carpet, avoiding the look he knew was captured in her eyes. He remained silent, more because of a lack of an answer than any other reason.

"Jess," she said. He forced his head to raise and meet her eyes, fixed intently on him.

"You should get some sleep. You look exhausted. You can sleep in my room."

"Jess, no," she protested. "I'm not putting you out. I'll just take the couch." She said.

"Rory, I live with two other guys. They most likely will stumble in around 1 AM, completely obliterated. Trust me, you do not want to sleep on this couch tonight," he smirked in spite of himself, picturing his drunken roommates finding her on the couch and thinking they crawled back into the wrong nest. Chaos would be sure to ensue.

Rory rose from the couch, much more composed from time and caffeine. "I'll go find a hotel, then," she said, searching for her purse.

"It's 11:30," he said, watching her closely. Rory glanced at the door, clearly uncomfortable.

"Please, Jess," she pleaded. "I know you don't want to do this."

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think then," he said quietly, bluntly. She looked back at him, standing with his hands in his pockets, his hair hanging over his eyes. Aside from his smirk, and occasional terse or sarcastic comments, he was a changed man. "Besides," he said, turning around, "I owe you."

"For what?" Rory asked, almost accusingly. He stopped just in front of his bedroom door and turned back to her. He studied her quizzical face for a long moment, taking in everything about the way she looked. Her air was altered. Her aura was manipulated. She was not the same 17-year old Stars Hollow princess with innocent blue eyes that would make him agree to anything. But still, his heart swelled for her, standing in his tiny apartment, the smell of alcohol, smoke, and misery drowning the air around her.

He smiled sadly at her, and stiffly turned around to enter the room.

**Reviews are always appreciated!! 3 Coco x**


	2. Chapter 2

**I still own nothing...I'll have to work on that.**

She was wakened the next morning by the dull yet pounding pain in her head. Her mouth tasted like acid and her skin crawled from the smoke-filled bar of the night before. Her dreams had been a struggle between Jess and Logan. She had dreamt of her bittersweet time with Jess, his love, and her injury to him the night before, in so many ways. His heart and his pride had been tampered with. In spite of their less-than-perfect relationship, he had not deserved the treatment she had wielded.

Her dreams of Logan were riddled with his dishonesty. Wishful thinking seeped through and she dreamt of him as sweet and innocent, pure and genuine. Every time she smiled in her sleep, though, his image quickly altered to embrace his whorish tendencies, his fake smile, and his poor treatment of those he viewed as beneath him.

She lay staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of the blood pounding in her head and the hypnotizing rhythm of her own breathing. The apartment was quiet. She took in her surroundings in Jess's room. It was small and masculine, with books crowded onto pine shelves. A small desk was home to a dusty computer and stacks of notebooks as well as a dictionary, thesaurus and encyclopedia. Her thoughts drifted to Jess and his rescue the night before. When he had bid her good night, she couldn't even look at him. Earlier, when he had gone to make up the bed for her, he had looked at her in a way that she was sure would have killed her if she had been any more ill. His jaw was held tight with disappointment, his eyes were pitiful for her, his fingers cracked their knuckles silently in uncomfortable waves of tension. She briefly considered sneaking out before Jess woke up, just so she wouldn't have to see him look at her like that again. Thinking twice, she realized it would probably be worse to do that to him. No, she had to stay, to suffer the humility. Maybe then he would see that she was not good enough for him.

Jess's eyes blinked open early. The couch was painfully uncomfortable and his back throbbed from the night. He inched his neck to the night and felt the crack run down his spine. His eyes found their way to his bedroom door, closed and cold. He stared at the wood grain pattern, wondering what Rory was dreaming about. He vaguely wished that she had left in the middle of the night, just so he wouldn't have to witness her emotionally emaciated state yet again. He sat up on the couch, rubbing his eye sockets with his thumb and forefinger, and feeling the piercing sting on his eyeballs. He rose and walked toward his room. At the door he paused and listened. Rory's breathing was faint and steady. Jess felt a tug inside his body, and hesitated. He cracked the door open. Rory's back was too him, her body lost under the thin bedspread. In one swift move he grabbed the jeans and t-shirt from the top of the dresser by the door and backed out, forcing himself not to look at her.

In the tiny apartment bathroom, Jess splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth. He changed into the clothes much more slowly than necessary. The apartment was still. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, searching his own face for something. He a bed creak, a hung-over moan, and a soft shuffle. He couldn't find anything on his face. No reason, no emotion. He was blank, an unwritten novel.

Jess came out of the bathroom just in time to see Matthew come stumbling into the living room. He winced when he passed through the patch of sunlight streaming in through the skylight, the rays burning his eyes and skin.

"Ahh, Buon giorno, Principessa!!" Jess said, cracking a rare smile.

"Umph, I hate you," Matthew moaned, collapsing on the couch.

"No worries, sunshine, I'm off to get coffee and bagels."

"And pickles, get pickles," Matthew's voice was barely audible, his face buried in a pillow.

"Why pickles?" Jess asked, pulling on his jacket.

Matthew turned his face toward Jess, "I don't know, just do it man." Jess shook his head at his roommates as Chris joined them in the living room. He sunk into a faded armchair.

"God, I'm tired," Chris sighed. "What happened to you last night?" He asked Jess. "You completely blew us off. Are we over, or what?"

"Ahh, nothing," Jess answered quickly. "I'm going to get food, any requests?"

"Nah, the usual," Chris glanced at Matthew on the couch. Jess carefully made his way over to his room again, where he had left his wallet. Chris stood up to stretch his legs, "You sleep out here last night, Jess?" He asked suddenly. Jess's hand had already turned the doorknob and begun to push the door open.

"Ah, yeah." Jess replied.

"Porque?" Chris inquired, rather intensely.

Jess shrugged, "No reason." He couldn't wait for Chris to turn away so he positioned himself in front of the door so that his friend couldn't see in the room when he opened the door. The maneuver didn't work.

Rory was now turned toward the door, her face peaceful in rest, her messy hair sprawled across the pillow. Chris had taken a step forward and seen her face. Jess retrieved his wallet and stepped out of the room, softly shutting the door behind him. The sight was enough to sober Chris. Jess started for the door.

"I'll be back," he said, jingling the keys in his pocket. "And I won't forget the pickles." He added when Matthew raised his head and squinted.

"There's a pretty girl in your bed, Jess," Chris said quietly, an intrigued smile parting his lips. Matthew looked up, first at Chris, and then to Jess, stalled by the door.

"There's a pretty girl in your bed, and you slept on the couch." Chris took the necessary steps forward to nearly corner Jess. "What's going on?"

Jess jingled the keys in his pocket again, and glanced at the floor before meeting his friend's eyes. "Nothing's going on; she needed a place to sleep. Don't bug her, okay? I'll be back in a few." Jess left the room, hurrying down the stairs to the bookstore.

Back in the apartment, Chris looked at Matthew, who raised his eyebrows, before following Jess down the stairs. He caught up with him just outside the front door.

"Who is she?" Chris asked, nearly knocking Jess over on the street. Jess brushed him off and headed down the sidewalk without answering. Chris followed, "She's the old friend, isn't she." He stated, more than asked, as he recalled the familiarity of her face.

"If you keep following me, looking like you do right now, you just might get arrested, and I won't do a damn thing to stop it," Jess said coolly. Chris grabbed his arm and forced Jess to a halt.

"C'mon, man. What's the story with the girl?" Jess's dark eyes burned as the story of the girl flashed over them.

"No story to tell," he said absentmindedly.

Chris dropped his arm, "I know you better than that man. I saw the way you looked at her last night, and I saw you talking to her at the bar last night, and now she's asleep in your bed, and you look like you've been through hell and back."

"Forget it," Jess said. "Forget it," he repeated, a little more desperately. Chris stared at him for a minute before turning around and heading back to the apartment. Jess watched him go silently; hating the fact that Chris could read him so easily. He continued down the sidewalk to the nearby bakery. Waiting for his order, he couldn't help but wonder how the day would end. Every time he had encountered Rory since his less than fabulous exit from her life he could only hope that she wouldn't scream at him, or slap him, or completely ignore him. This time was different though. She had come to him, though the results were not what he had hoped for. Or maybe this time wasn't so different. Once again, he was holding his breath, waiting for what she would say or not say, do or not do.

Standing in the light of a beautiful day which was streaming in through the window of a candy colored bakery, he wondered if how the day would end, and if today would be the last time he ever saw her.

**Not a lot happend in this chapter, I know. I promise the next one will be better...**

**Reviews are nice and thanks to everyone who already submitted!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm so sorry this took me so long to update. I'm such an undedicated author. This chapter is really short, but I promise the rest will come really soon. I wrote a rough draft of it while I was in Spanish class so it's all ready to go. Thanks for reading and thanks for the reviews!**

Rory had dosed off again and achieved a more peaceful slumber. When her eyes finally fluttered open an hour later, she felt a ghost in the room. You know, the feeling that someone had just been in the room or the silent echo of words just narrowly missed being heard. She heard silent bodies in the common room outside the door. She drowsily sat up, feeling the heaviness of her head trying to pull her back down. Sunlight seeped through the space between the shade and the window, bidding her to rise. Burying her face in her hands momentarily, she breathed deeply, trying not to think. She combed her fingers through her hair, gently tugging through the tangles and smoothing the strands. She pulled her hair back and quietly plaited it into a braid, not a thought finding its way through her mind. Tucking the stray strands behind her ear, she rose on her fists and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare feet struck the cool wood floor and she curled her toes over the tingling sensation in her legs. She sat for a moment, pushing the migraine to the back of her head. She stood and walked to the window where she pulled the shade and let the bright light burn her. She didn't flinch. The warm rays brought out the pink undertones of her skin. She sighed heavily. Rory found herself staring at the desk before her and, more specifically, a heavy, worn notebook with Jess's name written on it. She glanced at the door and listened for any activity in the apartment before cracking the volume open. Inside, the notebook was filled with Jess's neatly messy handwriting. She carefully read the first page. It was the beginning of a story. She read the page again. Her mind could not quite comprehend the honest beauty of his words. She read the page a third time, but when she moved her hand to turn the page the door swung open. She turned quickly, her fingers still resting on the college ruled paper before her. Jess stood at the door, watching her, not angrily. Just looking at her as if he had been looking at her for the past five minutes. She quickly shut the notebook.

"I'm sorry," the words spilled out of her mouth. "I just- I only read the first page, I'm so sorry….It's…It's beautiful." She trailed off. His lips pursed together more tightly in suppression of a smile and he took a step into the room. "I'm so sorry, Jess," she said again. He held up his hand in protest.

"Don't apologize." She looked away from him uncomfortably. "Really," he reassured her, "It's all right." They stood facing each other for a long moment before she looked back at him. He nodded his head and smiled, acknowledging the awkward moment. "Follow me." He said, turning around and walking out of the room, she hesitated a moment before following him. In the living room, one of Jess's roommates sat reading a newspaper and holding a cup of coffee. He looked up and met her eyes when she came out of the room. He raised his mug in salute to her, watching her quizzically, before forcing his eyes back down to his reading material.

Rory felt Jess standing come out of the next room and looked over to him. He glanced at his roommate before looking back at her. She walked toward him and he extended a towel to her.

"Bathroom's in here." He said, gesturing to the room beside him. She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off. "It's fine, Rory," he said, a little too calmly. "And use whatever you want out of the closet."

She saw there was no protesting with him, and in truth, she was desperate to wash the misery of the night before off of her. She accepted the towels from in and made her way into the bathroom as Jess stepped outside. "Thanks Jess," her whisper was barely audible.

Jess paced the apartment, idly flipping through novels and transcripts, not taking in a word. Chris watched him over his newspaper.

"What does she do?" He finally asked, Jess's movement making him nauseas. Jess's head snapped toward him, contemplating whether or not he would answer. He rubbed the back of his neck for a moment.

"She, ah, she goes to Yale. She's journalism major. Editor of the paper." His words were forced. Chris only nodded, weighing the situation and trying to guess what their past was.

Chris cleared his throat.

"She's the one, isn't she?" He asked before he could stop himself.

"What?" Jess asked accusingly. Chris smiled, trying to smooth the moment. The sound of water creaked to an end as the shower was turned off. Both of them involuntarily looked toward the bathroom door. Chris folded the paper and stood up.

"Well, I'm going downstairs. I think some of our books need to be rearranged," he raised his eyebrows at Jess and walked toward the door, motioning for Matthew to follow him. Chris opened the door and gently pushed a still drunk Matthew before him. Chris paused and looked back at Jess.

"You know," Chris began. "Sometimes you get this look in your eyes. It's kind of like you're off in a different world. It's one of those sad-happy looks that's hard to describe. It's hard to read. Every time I see it, I can't help but wonder what you're thinking about," he watched Jess for a moment before turning to exit.

"Thanks for the very special Full House moment," Jess said to his friends unruly hair.

"No worries."


	4. Chapter 4

**This is the final chapter. Thanks for reading!**

**My best 'til the next**

**Coco x**

Jess slipped downstairs for a few minutes to get his mind off the girl in his bathroom. When he swung the door to his apartment open, Rory was standing outside his bedroom, pulling her fitted jacket on. Her movement stopped and the apartment was empty again, with Jess and Rory left to stand with only miles of baggage and a sea of unspoken words between them.

"Jess," she began, rushing the single word out of her in one short breath. He cut her off.

"So you're leaving, huh?" She stopped and looked at the floor. It was hardwood, oak maybe. The floor, that is. It was honey gold colored with black ovals running through it like poisoned veins.

She finally managed to force the words from her throat. "I'm so sorry Jess." He started to interrupt her but she rushed on before he could break the momentum she was gaining, the momentum she feared would be lost forever should he speak too soon.

"I know you and me, we weren't always perfect. And I was angry at you for a long time. But you don't deserve any of this. I'm sorry I came here like this, I'm sorry I tried to use you, I'm sorry you felt obligated to take me in last night and I'm sorry I have to be here this morning for you to see again. You should hate me for all of this. For everything I've done to you in the last twenty-four hours. If you do hate me, I completely understand, but I'm not even worth hating anymore. I just wish I could make this up to you,"

"Rory stop," he said quietly, but sharply enough that she paused. He was looking at her, his coffee eyes struggling to push the sadness out and replace it with…anything, really.

"Please," he paused, fighting himself. "Please, don't say you're sorry. If you really want to do something for me, to make this up to me, don't say you're sorry." She shifted in her ballet flats and placed her hand on the back of the couch. "You're right; we weren't perfect. _I _wasn't perfect. But the past is in the past. What matters is the here and now.

"I don't regret a moment that I've spent with you. I don't regret telling you….telling you I love you, and I don't regret your being here right now. When you tell me how sorry you are, I feel like you regret me. Please don't do that to me. I don't ever want you to regret me or us. So please, just don't say you're sorry." Silence crept through the cracks in the windows and doors, through the walls and floorboards and filled every empty mole of space in the room. After a long moment, Rory could finally feel her heart beating again, hear Jess breathing rhythmically, and hear the wall clock ticking monotonously. They looked at each other, reading every subtle thought on the other's face. Behind his hard exterior, Rory saw what Jess kept hidden behind his analytical assessments of Jane Austin and the memorized passages of Franz Kafka. She nodded at him, unconsciously biting her lip.

"Okay," she said, stopping herself from adding the habitual 'I'm sorry' to the end of the concise statement. "I guess I'll go." She bent over to pick her purse off the floor.

"Yeah, right," he said distantly. She walked toward him and paused a few feet in front of him.

"Thank you," she said, feeling completely idiotic. "For everything," she added sincerely. He looked off at something intangible and gave a few brusque nods, pursing his lips. Rory hesitated for a moment, studying his profile.

Looking down at the floor he added, "If you ever need anything, you know where to find me." He met her eyes and she smiled sadly at him. She knew he wouldn't have said that if he didn't really mean it. She found herself thinking about the floorboards again and how they were a lot like her and Jess's relationship. They glowed; they fit together despite any warps or roughness. In spite of this, there would always be the darkness of the past running through them. But in a way, their story was tragically beautiful.

"Bye, Jess," she whispered. She tore her feet away from the floor and Jess could almost hear the abrasive tone of Velcro separating. He watched her back as she opened the door, stepped into the shadows of the hallway and disappeared.

Jess closed his eyes and exhaled. There was a knot in his stomach. He walked toward the couch and sat down. On the table before him sat warm coffee in a cold blue mug. He stared at it for a long time, thinking about nothing. He ran a hand through his hair and looked toward his room, where the door stood open. Rory's ghost stood in the doorway, laid in his bed, touched the books on the shelves.

His mind traced every time he had hurt her.

All the times he hadn't been there for her, all the times he had let her down. The way her voice sounded over the phone when she was trying not to cry. The way she looked at him like it would be the last time.

_I don't want to hear you say you're sorry, _he thought, _because I'm the one who should apologize._

_I should try, but I just can't say I'm sorry. _

The

End…


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